The Story
by KellyCRocker59
Summary: These are the memories. The tales of two lives, bound together. These are the moments that mattered, the ones that torn them apart and brought them together. This is how it began and concluded. This is the story. Sean/Holden.
1. Chapter 1

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

****It's been an eternity since I've done any work with these two, but I've been working on this for the better part of half a year, so it's all finished and I'll be updating frequently. There are about 25 individual vignettes that make up the whole plot, and I'll post three to five each chapter.

* * *

**Opening Departure**

There once was a man named Sean Jackson. He was strong and stoic. He was a professional football player with a large fanbase. He had some really close friends and a lot of casual friends. But Sean Jackson held a lot of sadness deep in his heart.

Sean Jackson was gay. He had been gay since he could remember, but the problem was that no one else knew he was gay. This was problematic, because there was no one with whom Sean could confide. He was left grappling with many emotions that he could not comprehend. Loneliness filled his heart, and he began to drift away from his friends and family.

Then one day when Sean Jackson was drinking alone at a bar, he saw another man. He saw other men all the time, but this one seemed different. The bar was crowded, people were swarming amongst Sean, but he kept his eyes on this elusive man. The man stood and disappeared into the crowd, and Sean drew a breath and took a long drink, attempting to lead his mind astray from the man.

However, the man later returned to his seat. Sean had been drinking for quite some time, so he was not quite aware of the time. He was, however, aware of the desire boiling beneath his skin. Due to this, Sean stood and crossed the room toward the man. The man had an inward tilt to his shoulders and peered into his half-emptied glass.

"Hey." Sean acknowledged.

The man looked up from his glass, brow tightening above his eyes, lips falling loose. "Hi?"

Sean was not this sort of brave individual. He was very brave in the traditional sense, brave in almost every sense of the word, truly. But when it came to men, Sean was not brave in the least. However, there was alcohol pounding through his veins, and so Sean became a very brave man indeed.

"Are you here with anyone?" He asked.

The man shook his head. Sean wished he were better at reading expressions in that moment, because something flickered behind the other man's eyes. Sean thought it was very similar to a light, one that did not shine, but burned.

"What's your name?" He asked, unfazed.

"Holden." The man replied, turning to face him, which made Sean feel like a bit more brave, still.

"Can I buy you a drink, Holden?"

Holden nodded. "I would like that."

Sean smiled, because in truth, he had never bought a drink for a man that he liked. So Sean bought Holden a drink, and they decided to spend their night talking beside the bar. As people began to leave the bar, Sean was able to sit, and so they stayed and talked for several more hours.

Sean learned Holden's favorite color, his favorite animal, why he hated seventh grade, where he went to college, his best friend's daughter's favorite television show, and Holden's favorite food. Sean unraveled with Holden's words, soon finding himself thoroughly entangled in the other man's companionship.

This was the night that Sean Jackson and Holden Wilson began their story.

* * *

**Take Care**

In a beach house far away from reality but not so far away from society, there lived a football player named Sean Jackson. Sean had many friends, but he was often alone in his spacious residence. Sometimes, he got very lonely, sitting and watching television or ordering food from a napkin with a list of phone numbers scrawled in his handwriting. Some days, he would sit and think, maybe put a pen to his machinations.

Then one day, Sean met a man named Holden Wilson. Holden was a kind man with a hunger for success but a heart for friendship. He did not know Sean by first and last name as so many people did. Instead, Sean was simply Sean, which made the football player very happy. He took Holden on dates and one day when they were standing outside of a vacant restaurant, Sean decided to kiss him. Holden seemed very surprised, but he kissed Sean back. A lot of kissing happened after that.

After kisses came a drawer of Holden's belongings at Sean's house, and then came weekends spent with both of them lying stitched together in Sean's bed, and later still, finally, came Sean, hefting heavy boxes of Holden's household necessities up many stairs and into his bedroom. Holden helped as well, and soon they had a home together.

Now that Holden lived with him, Sean began to realize how accustomed he had grown to being alone. Holden could cook breakfast and grab dinner from a nice restaurant or sometimes he would cook dinner as well. He would roll over in the morning and kiss Sean's open mouth. He would smile just when Sean looked at him. Sean was not used to the attention. Sean was a self-sufficient man, but with Holden, he no longer needed to deal with the repercussions of that lifestyle.

Sometimes, Sean would sit on his balcony and stare out at the ocean. Sometimes Holden would spend many hours at a desk, studying papers and tapping at a calculator, things Sean was not used to doing. During these times, Sean would spend his time alone. He relished it in the way someone may relish a night of laziness on an otherwise manic vacation. Then Holden would come out of the study, hair messed up in all directions, eyes blinking rapidly, and Sean would pull him onto his lap. Holden would rest his head on Sean's shoulder, and Sean would breathe into Holden's hair while he closed his eyes and rested.

You see, Holden took care of Sean all the time. So sometimes, Sean enjoyed taking care of Holden.

* * *

**Hanging On**

There came a time in which Holden Wilson began to drift from Sean Jackson. This could not be pinpointed on a timeline. Sean could not recall the exact moment or place when it began, but he did remember when he recognized it. There came a day when Sean Jackson was sharing coffee with his lover and he caught a flicker of light diminishing behind his eyes. It halted his thoughts, words falling from his lips unsaid. By the time Sean realized he was losing his love, it was too late.

Refusal and denial were Sean's first instincts. In bed, he would pull Holden so close to him that he could feel both of their heartbeats. When they made love, he held on with all of his might, his fingers marking and bruising the other man. Holden did not complain. Holden did not say much, in truth. Afterward, Holden would fall onto Sean's chest and take a deep breath before dodging away and curling into himself on their bed. Sean would meld his body with Holden's, and Holden would allow it. But he was a ragdoll beneath Sean's fingers, moving as he was directed, speaking when spoken to, doing as he was asked.

Sean came to accept this. He was not the type for confrontation, never one to start a fight. Even as he felt Holden slipping through his fingers, he resolved that Holden would never leave. That some force of the universe, some higher power, had bound their souls together. So when he arrived home and found Holden's bags by the door, when he saw Holden standing there in the living room with his hands clenched and head down, he felt every inch of his skin burn and go numb.

He called out to him. As Holden took his belongings to his car and packed them into the trunk, he stood there, pleading, saying words he had kept to himself, promises that he should have made long ago, finally fighting.

Holden only spoke once. As he was getting into his car, he turned to Sean and raised his hand to the other man's cheek. Sean grabbed it but Holden pulled away, shaking his head. He sat down in his car and looked up at Sean. The blazing in Sean's chest was his alone now. As their eyes held, Sean searched for any ember, any spark, but found none.

"I'm sorry, Sean. I just can't keep hanging on."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Two**

* * *

**Take It All**

In his realm of consciousness, Sean Jackson flickered in and out. Some days he would be fine, walking down the street with his coffee, heading into meetings, discussing PR. Other days, he would feel a noose around his neck, bricks fastened to his calves. He would lie in bed for hours and memorize the velocity of his ceiling fan. He would listen without speaking, without hearing. He would leave tasks uncompleted, wouldn't go out with friends. Some days he was fine. Others, he could function only at base level.

He tried sex once. He went to a club, picked up a cute guy and brought him back to his house. They kissed a little bit, and that was fine. But when it came time for the intimacy, Sean could feel his stomach in knots, threatening to purge the alcohol inside him. So he went out to his balcony and took a few deep breaths, lost himself in the stars, tried to piece together his thoughts. When the guy came outside to check on him, he asked him to go home. His request fell like liquid ice from his lips, he surprised even himself. But he still did not ask the man to stay, instead spending another night lost in his bedroom.

Sean Jackson tried to rehabilitate himself. He tried to grab the pieces of his heart and match them up, get them to fit together again. But it was an endless task, infuriating and impossible. He would look at himself in the mirror, searching his own reflection for some truth. He would converse with himself, trying to ease himself with the sound of his voice, like it was some sort of compass for sanity. It was fruitless; all the self-searching in the world could not return him to what he had been.

It was one day when he was brushing his teeth, refusing to think about anything at all because that only led to further deprecation, when he came to the only logical conclusion, the one that had been so blatant from the moment he was left in his driveway. When Holden had left him, he had unstitched their souls so clumsily that part of Sean had managed to stay with him and leave its original owner trapped in his memories.

* * *

**Mechanics of the Heart**

Holden was building his life around a world without Sean Jackson. He was stabilizing the walls, fastening the ropes, nailing down boards and tightening bolts. He had constructed his own entity, his own reality, yet somehow there was were missing pigments in the picture, glaring errors in the blueprint. He had calculated it all to perfection, so that he would not feel the ache of solitude or the plea of his own desperation. Yet somehow down the line, there was a hole in the plan.

So when it happened, when Holden found himself back at Sean's door, unlocking it with a key he had just removed from his keychain, when he stepped across the hardwood and found those hazy eyes fixated upon him, brow creased, he felt a light filling him again, bane to the darkness that had established itself and grown like a cancer. It was banished with such ease that Holden wondered if it had even existed, taken by the conviction in Sean's gaze. Holden pressed the tips of his fingers to Sean's temple, feeling the gentle pulse. The soothing exhalation of Sean's breath sent a warm radiance through Holden's chest, dismantling the exterior planes of distance he had forged within himself. He had spent months exiling himself into his own realm of loneliness but here Sean was, open and willing and ready, finally ready.

Sean sat up, muttering words that Holden could scarce hear. Instead, he let the other man seize his arm and pull him into his arms. Their lips were a botched exercise in memorization and recollection, Sean reclaiming every breadth of skin he could touch, as Holden became the willing subject, grasping at Sean's hair. Gun smoke in the still air, this was peace. Waves against the shore, this was tranquility. The breath before the leap, this was euphoria. The gasp before the touch and the promise before the commitment, this was love.

* * *

**Promise This**

Being together was work. Not the kind of work that logs some time and sees payoff. It was legitimate and frustrating. Holden knew from the beginning that being with Sean Jackson the professional football player was far different than being with Sean, the man who woke him with his favorite coffee and kissed him when he least expected. Yet it was still jarring, being thrown into a world of photographs and lights and attention deficit social media.

Don't talk about it. That was a big rule that Sean's PR had established early on. If Holden was approached, he was to ignore the paparazzi and continue his business as he would in any other instance. The scrutiny was another aspect he had not anticipated. Scrutiny from men, mostly, when he went to the gym. When he walked to a bookstore or went grocery shopping. There was at least one odd look every time, and he should be used to it. He should know that this was part of the life he had chosen, but he had never before realized how much value he put into his own privacy.

Then there were the football games. He would go, of course. He had never been a regular attendee prior to dating Sean, but he would go and park himself in special seating and wince through ever blow Sean took. Sean would never admit it, but Holden's presence was momentous, and Holden would do this for him. He would endure watching Sean get himself beaten up, and he would not intervene when people threw themselves on Sean after the games even though the poor man was exhausted. He would bear it all, week after week, in silence.

Sometimes, Holden would be lost in his head, thinking of all the things that they would not get to do in public. Paula was adamant that Sean was not to show Holden affection when they were out for a while, so that people could be eased into their relationship. Sean agreed to it grudgingly, and Holden had thought nothing of it. But then there were the times he would reach for Sean's hand as they walked down the street and Sean would eye him in caution and that commitment became an aching reminder of the repression he had thought they had expelled after Sean came out.

But then there were the nights. Nights when Holden would lie down over Sean and press his fingers along the other man's aching back, summoning groans of appreciation. Nights when they would make tea and tangle their limbs together on the couch, appreciating the silence. Nights when love could be made without pretense or interruption, when it was all that mattered in the world and Holden could die in the arms of his lover.

It was nights like these, when their breaths melded and Sean would kiss a promise to Holden's lips, that he knew this was where he would spend the rest of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Three**

* * *

**Monday Morning**

It's a Monday morning. It's too early, too bright, too busy, too loud, too…too much. It's Monday morning and Holden cannot handle it, because Monday mornings are forever marked as the worst moments in his life. As if to prove it, he's already wearing his coffee, courtesy of a cyclist pressing through traffic like it was their first triathlon. It very well may have been, but Holden will be damned if it's going to force him to waste coffee and dirty himself at the same time.

The office is quiet, which is a pleasant change from the bustling streets. Meetings leech what little life he had in him until lunch, when he is enthused to the point of optimism to enjoy his beautiful Greek salad and iced tea. He chats with some of his co-workers and it brightens his mood, but then he is once again dropped into the world of papers and reading and improving and the general tediousness of a 9 to 5. He had been on far too many business trips to have to deal with these things, he told himself again and again as he committed several numbers to memory, typing them across his computer screen amongst walls of text. But it was a slow time and he had to be in the office. Being in the office built character, or at least that was what one football playing, jersey wearing man had told him over dinner several nights back.

Holden was pressed to believe him; he had gotten out of the habit of working toward a goal, and this work was the perfect amount of busywork with the occasional spark of interest to keep him from becoming a housewife. He had romanticized his own career though, it seemed. He couldn't remember ever being this devoid of joy when sitting at his desk prior to his mini vacation during football season.

The day concluded and Holden called Sean from a cab. To his surprise, Sean told him to take the cab to their shared favorite Italian restaurant. It was only now reaching five thirty, but Holden agreed. Upon arriving, he found Sean had already gotten them a table. He seemed more animated than usual, and Holden found it infectious, alleviating the general dissatisfaction he felt for not deciding to stay in bed all day.

Sean took him by the hand as they left the restaurant, a gesture Paula had finally begun allowing a month ago. Leading him down the hectic streets and to a quaint ice cream parlor where they had shared a milkshake over a year ago, Sean sat Holden down and placed their orders on his own. Holden found himself admiring the bright colors and peering along at the vacant seats. This was not his typical Monday night; he was used to his sweats and college t-shirt, in front of the television.

Sean took a seat across from him with ice cream bowls in hand. Holden took his readily and found he devoured the dessert far more quickly than he should be comfortable. Sean was not much slower, and as they relaxed against the soft cushions of the booth, Sean began to say things that were out of place. He began reminiscing upon their first date, on what Holden cooked him when he invited Sean to his apartment. He was recalling the lost dog they had found and taken into care until the owner finally reclaimed it. Holden was bemused by the sudden revitalization of the past, but then Sean took his hand and pulled him out of the booth.

As Sean knelt and pulled a black box out of his pocket, Holden could feel the pieces unifying. He bit back a tear and swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding for the question. He only just managed to say yes before Sean was tackling him for a kiss.

* * *

**No Regrets**

Unlike Holden's forward thinking, politically correct, energy efficient parents, Sean's parents were not so accepting of him. From a very young age, he was told that he was special. When he was able to take a football across a field with minimal interception, this claim was made factually correct. Throughout high school, he was his mother's son, his father's crown jewel. He was lavished with love and praise, made to believe that his parents' love was unshakeable.

Then came college. With college, there was Toby. Toby was a cute English major who sat beside him in Honors Chemistry. Poor Toby was terrible at science, and Sean took it upon himself to offer study sessions. These study sessions somehow turned into tentative flirting then uncertain kisses, and finally wistful nights of lovemaking. Discovering another boy's body as he came into his own sexual identity left Sean flustered and obsessed.

So began his first love. Nights spent talking, days spent texting, weekends spent in hibernation between the sheets; it was an awakening that Sean had craved since he reached sexual maturity. He was so overcome with this alien experience that he decided he would bring Toby home with him for a day over winter break. When he announced this to his mom, his supportive, nurturing, kind mother, he did not expect the dial tone that followed.

And with love, came change. He had Toby, but he also had disownment from his parents. He clung to Toby like an insect to fruit on a hot summer day, and it was what ultimately broke their relationship. By the summer of his freshman year of college, he was housed in a home that had been sapped of love and replaced with cold distance.

As he grew up, he matured and forgave, though it was never again the same. His mother came to ignore the aspect of his life she did not appreciate, and his dad supported him until the subject arose. Their relationship became one of polite acknowledgment and habitual care. He had only one other boyfriend after Toby and before Holden, but it was like trying to lift off from a combat zone. So when he realized he should call his parents to tell them he was engaged to his boyfriend of five years whom they had yet to meet, he found his hesitance was justified.

Listening to the ring as he sat on his balcony, wrapped in sunlight, a cool numbness settled beneath his skin. His mom answered on the fourth ring. The hello was tender. When he made his identity known, the tone sifted the slightest, so slight he would not have noticed had he not been conditioned to recognize it.

"I have something to tell you."

She inquired for further information.

"I proposed to the man I've been dating for five years. He said yes. We're getting married."

He could feel the frail crack of his mother's voice, could sense the development of a response. She wanted to know the date. He told her it was not set. She did not inquire further.

"Do you want an invitation once we decide?" He asked, losing ground against his own apathy. She responded with a polite yes. He knew better than to hope for anything other than another call before the wedding.

* * *

**Flood**

Watching Holden sleep became a pastime for Sean once they began living together. The easy trace of Holden's hairline, the curve of his chin, the gentle hairs collecting along it. The other man was late to bed, late to rise, making it all the easier for Sean to tumble out of post-slumber daze and into the warm light of the sun across his lover's face with the turn of a shoulder.

Holden had a habit of hogging the sheets and in his heavy unconscious, he made for a reckless spooning partner. Sean once woke in the darkest hour of night to the sensation of being constricted, one of Holden's legs wrapped around him while another arm was strung over him, their bare skin practically woven together. He had managed to pry Holden's limbs off just enough to allow air to reach his lungs before settling back to sleep, content with being Holden's dream pillow.

Unlike Holden, Sean was slept light. Nightmares never found manifestation in his shallow dreaming; a heavy wind tossed his mind back into reality on any given night. When it did, he would untangle himself from Holden and go to the kitchen, dim lights illuminating his figure as he fixed tea. He would sit at the kitchen table or by the fireplace and fall into a deeper fantasy than any dream could conjure. He would see his life years in the future, would imagine children, Holden with greying hair and their friends gathered for some grand event.

These machinations would warm his mind as the tea soothed his body. He would find his consciousness settling back within his body as he stared outside at the material world, so permanent yet still so fleeting. Then came Holden's role.

"Sean, what…"

He would turn and there would be Holden, standing in one of Sean's t-shirts, a size too big and hanging off of him. He would scratch at his face, sometimes his head, always caught between perplexity and concern while unconsciously clawing his way out of whatever dream had loosened his mind from reality.

"Just couldn't sleep." Sean would answer, not awaiting the question. He would leave his mug at the table and stand, walking over to Holden, illuminated by the kitchen light. "Come on, babe; let's go back to bed."

"You alright?" Holden would ask, grabbing Sean's hand as if on cue and melding their fingers together. Sean would nod, never lying. Holden would peer at him for a moment as they stood shrouded in the dark, the perfect time to keep a secret, yet the worst time to escape Holden's worrying eye.

"Yeah, I promise." Sean would say, tugging at Holden's hand, leading them back to their bedroom.

Holden would get in bed and drag Sean down with him, the other man lingering over him, if just for a moment. Holden was oblivious always, eager to sleep again.

"Love you." Sean would whisper, carefully looping an arm over Holden's side.

"Love you too, Sean." Holden would mutter, nuzzling into a pillow while yanking Sean's arm more firmly around him.

Nights like these, Sean was haunted by so many demons. The ones that could not reach him in his slumber, the ones that would somehow hook into him and pull him to life and force him into confrontation. That was why he would find his place, and he would wait. He would wait for Holden to realize he was gone, and would wait for to see him wrapped in night and dim light, the picture of innocence. He was Sean's siren when he was lost in a tsunami, guiding him home. Holden was his tether, binding them and keeping him from all of his fears and enemies. Just one look, one word, and the storm in Sean's mind was calmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Four**

* * *

**Breathe**

Sean did a lot of running. Running in the mornings, shirtless across the beach with sand giving way beneath his feet. During football practice, stop and start, joints locking. Up the stairs at Holden's beckoning, a blur of movement with clothes jettisoned from his body.

Holden did not run. When he exercised, it was on an elliptical or a spin machine, legs kept in a very exact motion so as not to leave much to his coordination. He would sweat a grotesque amount. The worst part was that there was no point in his exercise routine that left him glistening in the sexy way weightlifters always did after hitting their maximum repetitions. Holden was not a sexy man, and certainly not so when he was exercising.

When Sean asked him to go for a run one morning, Holden refused. When he offered again a few days later, Holden once again refused. Weeks later, after numerous requests, Holden finally agreed to run with Sean. Dressed in the most cardio-enthusiast t-shirt and shorts he possessed, he joined Sean, all toned and strong bare torso and sweats outside their home.

"I usually run to the edge of the beach and back. It takes about thirty-five, maybe forty minutes. You ready?" Sean asked.

Holden nodded, steadying his breath. And like that, Sean was off, Holden stumbling into a jog behind him. At first he kept a decent pace, but within ten minutes, the sand beneath his feet felt like a vacuum. He had passed the point of sweat by the twenty-five minute mark and felt like an ogre who had abandoned his swamp mid-morning. Finally, as his legs quivered and his lungs struggled to keep up with his need for oxygen, Sean stopped in front of their home, breathing heavy but hardly breathless. He turned to Holden.

"Feels good, right?"

Holden limped to a chair on the patio and deposited himself there, panting as his muscles eased to rest. Sean walked over to him, hands on the waistband of his sweats. Holden looked up at his smile, full of playfulness.

"What, was that a little rough?"

"You're legitimately insane. Not like, 'oh, look I'm crazy and quirky, I'm so cute'. No, Sean, you are actually psychologically broken if you think there is any enjoyment to be had in that." Holden replied, taking a deep breath and bowing his head. Sean laughed as he stood over him, draping him in shade.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure. I mean, that was your first time running in sand, wasn't it? It gets a lot easier."

Holden shook his head. "I'm just going to need to go shower right now. We can talk about this elusive 'again' some other time."

"You want me to join?" Sean asked as Holden pried himself up from the seat.  
"Honestly, you would get about zero enjoyment from a mutual shower at this moment, so I think it's best if you wait."

He left Sean outside on the patio to bathe in the shine of the morning. After he showered, he returned downstairs to find Sean with a college t-shirt on, still dressed in his sweats, swinging his car keys around his finger. Holden raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to thank you for going out for a run with me, so I figured we could go get some coffee?"

Holden sighed, leaning against the bannister. "Sounds perfect. Maybe we can discuss some sort of intervention for your obsessive desire for cardiovascular health?"

Sean just laughed and ushered him to their car.

* * *

**Untouchable**

The sky was a mirage of golden yellow overhead. Holden had spent hours of the night studying the stars overhead, searching for answers to questions he knew he could not answer himself. He had never been particularly religious, but in his mid-twenties what had begun as a fad diet had turned into a deep spirituality. Now, he yearned for some sort of justification for this life that was slipping through his fingers.

The cool wind was the harbinger of the autumn weather fast approaching. He was not used to the nights like this, spent out on a porch with a star-kissed sky and a luminescent moon. It was almost disconcerting; he had never experienced the vast quality that the sky possessed at night. His childhood had been offices and skyscrapers, unrelenting concrete and apathetic faces.

His eyes were diverted from the sky as a hand landed on his shoulder, a gentle hold that urged him to turn to look at the face paired with it. Sean held a mug of hot chocolate and was dressed in a warm sweater, lines of stress eased away by the comfort of his hometown.

"You alright?" He asked, taking a seat beside Holden.

"Yeah, just…thoughtful, I guess." Holden mumbled, twisting the ring on his finger.

"You can talk to me about it, babe. I mean, if we're really gonna do this, it's kind of necessary that we discuss our issues." Sean coaxed.

Holden sighed. "It's nothing. I mean, it shouldn't be anything, I guess. But it is. It's me, getting lost in my head again, basically."

He looked up and Sean was leaning forward, studying him. Holden sighed and continued, averting eye contact.

"I didn't expect your parents to be so…cold. I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting a warm welcome, but I guess I thought that if they saw us together, if they really got a sense of what we're doing here, they would be more understanding."

Sean grabbed Holden's hand with his free one, linking their fingers together. Holden chanced a look up at him, and something behind the other man's gaze stole the chill from his body.

"It's going to be alright, okay? I mean, I was hoping for a better reception too, but I've known them my whole life, and the only thing they hold a higher standard to than family is traditional values. My mom…it's probably going to take years, honestly. But those years I'll have you, and we'll be happy. Lots of family dinners at your folks' place, if that's okay by them."

Holden nodded. "My dad has been endlessly devoted to you since you two met. He probably looks forward to Thanksgiving now more than I do."

"And you do love your Chinese takeout." Sean added.

Holden smiled and clasped Sean's hand between both of his. "That I do, that I do."

They sat there in silence for a while, a long while of neither of them speaking, before Sean stood with mug in hand. He gave Holden's hand a slight tug.

"Come on; you've been out here way too long. Let's get you warmed up."

Holden grinned, jumping to his feet. "Sounds perfect."

As Sean led them back inside, Holden would have sworn that he could see the stars spelling out their names.

* * *

**Drive**

There was dust flecked along the cracked mirror and a stench permeating from the trashcan. The white sink was chipped and the graffiti decorated the toilet. Sean took a breath, careful where he settled his hands on the sink as white dribbled from it. He closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and then left. Holden was waiting at the cash register, bag of almonds and a mixed bottled coffee in hand. He eyed Sean with a furrowed brow as he approached.

"You want me to take over for a few hours?"

Sean shook his head. "I'm good until the next stop. I'll just grab an energy drink and call it good."

He headed to the cooler, snatching the least offensive and most oversized can before heading to the register where Holden was getting ready to shell out money for his snacks. Sean nudged him aside, set his drink down and handed the cashier a twenty.

"You don't have to always pay for my stuff, Sean."

Sean flashed him his teeth. "Yeah I do, babe. Part of the job description."

Holden snorted but gave him a light push of his shoulder as he grabbed his almonds and drink. Sean got his change, watching the cashier as he looked from Holden to Sean and then back to Holden, who was heading toward the exit. There was a light behind his eyes that Sean knew too well.

"You out of change or something?" He questioned, feeling blood pulse to his brain.

The cashier shook his head a few times and reached into the open register, issuing the correct amount into Sean's hand.

"Have a nice night." He mumbled as Sean left.

"Yeah you too, dude." Sean replied shortly, walking outside. Streetlights illuminated the parking lot, and he spotted Holden standing outside the SUV, massaging his forehead.

"You sure you don't want to take a nap?" Sean asked, caressing Holden's shoulder. The other man shook his head.

"Naw, I'm good. I have to keep you company, anyway."

"You have anymore surprises hidden on your iPod?" Sean asked as Holden circled the vehicle and he climbed into the driver's seat. Holden took his seat, immediately fishing the device out of the cup holder.

"I don't know; you'll just have to wait and see."

"I don't know if I can handle much more Cyndi Lauper." Sean responded, shoving the keys into the ignition.

"She only has three good songs and we listened to all of them already. Don't worry."

Some odd 80's synths started blasting from the speakers and Sean cracked open his beverage and took a gulp before pulling out of the parking lot.

"How many hours until we get to your sister's house?" Holden asked.

"About four hours." Sean replied.

"Great; just enough time to run through my comprehensive best of disco playlist." Holden laughed as Sean glared his way. "Just kidding; I think I'm feeling some No Doubt, actually."

"That's a bit better." Sean said, turning his attention back to the deserted city road.

"So…you said your sister's a good cook." Holden began.

Sean nodded. "Probably the best I know."

"But does she know how to make a good pecan pie?"

"Trust me, your palette is safe with her."

"I think you underestimate my culinary aptitude. I didn't order a pecan pie this year from my favorite bakery because you said she was the messiah of the kitchen. There's a lot riding on this."

Sean ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure you aren't just nervous to meet the rest of my family?"  
Holden shrugged. "Not really. Maybe. A little bit."

Sean grasped his hand, settling them on the armrest. Holden visibly slouched in his seat and rested his head back.

"It's going to be great, babe. I promise."

"I hope your right."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Five**

* * *

**Lightning and Gold**

The chandeliers illuminated the ballroom, individuals talking in some circles, others snacking or sipping wine. A crystal sculpture of a lion was the hub, some women maintaining their close distance to the extravagant art, not daring to move more than several feet from the focal point.

Holden popped a small bacon-wrapped hot dog into his mouth, letting his tongue run across it, feeling the texture. He peered around the room, past knitted groups. He took a taste of his wine to clear his mouth of the aftertaste. He looked around the room once more, idly walking toward the center. A woman across the room caught his gaze and was receptive, but he turned away.

"Looking for someone?"

He turned toward the crystal lion. Standing with wine in hand, Sean wore a fashionable silver and white suit and a disarming grin. Holden smiled back.

"I didn't know if you would show."  
"Of course I came; this is important to you, and I said I'd be here."

"Yeah, but with training camp and everything, I figured you needed your rest."

"Screw it. Besides, there's gotta be some rule against skipping your fiancée's charity banquet. I think I'd be sprinting to hell for that one."

Holden's brow furrowed and he nodded, tight-lipped. "Oh, surely. I'd like to think that's the standard measurement of who gets sent to hell: the number of charity banquets an individual attends."

"Then you're basically locked into heaven, aren't you?" Sean questioned.

Holden shook his head. "No, no, you're forgetting purgatory. That's far more tricky business. They actually weigh out the ratio of hors d'oeuvres to wine each person consumes throughout the night."

Sean suppressed a smile. "And only the ones with a ratio of 2 to 1 get into heaven, I'm assuming?"

"Oh, then they see how many cats you've taken care of; anyone can care for a dog, but cats are a much better measure of character." Holden allowed himself to break composure after that, Sean following suit.

Holden stepped closer to him, lowering his voice. "Between you and me, though; I'm glad you made it."

Sean nodded. "Of course, babe."

Holden smiled and then left him, walking across the room to the podium and microphone that had been set up. After a rousing speech that began a round of applause, Holden was wrestled into conversations with various donors, some affected by personal tragedy and others moved by his speech.

Sean spent the evening at a distance, observing the other man as he interacted with businessmen and socialites, lawyers and bankers. He drained his wine and ate a few deviled eggs without a sound.

"Sean Jackson?"

He turned toward a man who looked to be in his late fifties, grey-flecked hair and spectacles resting precarious on his nose. He thrust out a hand before Sean could muster a response.

"I'm Thomas Edgar. CEO of some business you probably don't care about. I just wanted to say hi; I'm a big fan."

Sean shook his hand, managing to compose his professional smile. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"What brings you to a businessman's charity? Surely your people didn't rope you into speaking at this."

Sean shook his head. "No, I'm engaged to the host."

The man raised an eyebrow as their hands separated. "Oh? That's interesting; I thought that was Holden Wilson."

"It is. He's my fiancée." Sean replied, jaw flexing against the words.

The man's eyes flickered to life. "Oh! I didn't…goodness, I suppose I should watch more Sports Center. My wife, she's always chatting over the games, I tend to just pay attention to the screen rather than the announcers. I'm such a busy man, I didn't even know that you were…"  
Sean shrugged. "Not many people did until about a year ago."

"So you and Holden…you've been together for a while?"  
"Three years now." Sean caught Holden's eye across the room as he was shaking someone's hand. He turned back to Thomas.

"Well that's very admirable of you. Doing the traditional thing despite not necessarily being everyone's idea of traditional."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, I figure if I like it I should put a ring on it."

Thomas nodded, unaware, seeming lost in his head. Sean balanced his weight from foot to foot, waiting.

"Actually, Sean, I…this is awkward, really, I just met you, but…I have to ask for some advice."

"Go for it, sir." Sean replied.

"My son. He loves basketball. He's getting recruitment letters from colleges and universities across the nation, offering him full-ride scholarships. He had a girlfriend in middle school, briefly, but…he never talks about women, not the way I did when I was his age. And we're close, as close as we can be given my job. I love him, I just…"

"Just let him know that. If I'm picking up on what you're implying, he's young and more than likely scared. If your suspicions are true, you just have to love him through it. I wish my parents had done that for me. Until then, just be subtle and if the topic ever comes up, find some way of letting him know it's not an issue for you."

Thomas nodded. "Yes. That does sound best. Sean, I...well, thank you. That's really all."

Sean nodded, and offered his hand. Thomas shook it with a smile.

"No problem, sir. I hope all goes well."

With that, Thomas was gone.

Holden would ask Sean on the car ride home what had prompted such intimate conversation with a stranger. Sean would give an ambiguous answer, because it wasn't really important anyway. Holden would let it go, twining their fingers together. Sean would smile to himself and run his thumb across the back of Holden's hand, vowing his life to this man.

* * *

**Blank Page**

Sean closed the door behind them, back pressed to the wood as Holden toed out of his shoes. He watched the other man, fingers tightening around the brass doorknob. Holden turned to him, hands on his hips.

"Well?"

"Well, this is it." Sean answered.

"It is, isn't it?" Holden asked, breaking out in a splitting grin.

Sean nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He fastened the lock on the door. "Do you feel any different?"

Holden shrugged, crossing the room and stepping up onto the bed. He bounced on the balls of his feet, seeming incapable of not smiling. "I feel sort of relieved, I guess."

"Why's that?" Sean asked.

"Well because now once you realize I'm crazy, you're going to have to file paperwork before you can get rid of me. And by then I'll have you tied up in the basement on a diet of chicken broth."

"You really are insane, Mr. Jackson." Sean replied, shaking his head.

"Mr. Jackson, huh? I like the sound of that." Holden said, furrowing his brow in thought.

Sean took that moment to cross the expanse between them in a run, leaping onto the bed with Holden. It took the other man by surprise, sending he careening toward the edge of the bed. Sean grabbed his forearms, steadying him with a laugh. Once Holden realized he wasn't going to die, his smile returned.

"This tie…it's too much." Sean began, letting go of Holden and working to free the accessory from his neck.

"Here, let me do it." Holden said, reaching forward and making short work of the tie, letting it hang around the other man's neck. "Better?"

Sean nodded, working down the buttons midway, revealing his white undershirt. Meanwhile, Holden shrugged out of his jacket, depositing it on the floor.

"Much, much better." Holden agreed, beginning to bounce again.

Sean leaned down, examining one of the pillows. "I wonder what these are made of..."

"Why do you care? I had stop you once from buying a pillow from Wal-Mart." Holden said, peering around their large suite.

"Well, because I wanted to know what would happen when I did _this!_" Sean spun around with pillow in hand and whacked Holden across the chest with it. Holden let out a loud 'oof' and attempted to grab Sean's jacket as he spun. Sean laughed like a five year-old, watching the other man as his attempt failed and he collapsed on his back on the king sized bed.

"Sean Jackson, you…" Holden began, huffing.

"Me what, babe?" Sean asked, bouncing on the bed with a twinkling in his eyes.

"You…_get down here!_" Holden demanded, yanking on the bottom of his jacket so hard that Sean's upper body bent all the way over and he fell to his knees.

Holden grabbed the back of his neck and pulled, bringing their lips together. Sean's hands settled on the other man's neck, thumbs caressing his jaw as he returned the kiss, closing his eyes ever so slow.

Sean huffed out a laugh as they pulled apart, pressing his face into the crook of Holden's shoulder. Holden joined in this time, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders.

"Can you…" Sean sat up, clearing his throat. "Can you believe this is our life?"

Holden shook his head, and when Sean looked him in the eyes, he lost the will to breathe. Holden reached up, pressing his hand to Sean's chest, over his heart.

"You and me, Sean. Forever."

Sean nodded. "Forever. I promise."

* * *

**JOY**

Joy was one of the least tangible emotions. Joy came and went so quickly, in unexpected and unplanned moments, escaping just as it came with no explanation. Joy could not be planned. Some people fight for a moment of joy, to be with a loved one for just one night. To hold their children at night. To finally be free.

Holden knew joy as the smile that greeted him in the morning. Joy to him was the feeling of callused hands staking their claim, of words whispered in the night. Joy was anything and everything that bound him to Sean Jackson.

This, though, this was not joy. This was life dissipating beneath his feet. This was the world itself lifting its guise and exposing anguish and pain he had never known. There was no joy in white walls and tears on linoleum tiles. There was no joy in the comfort of strangers or empty stairwells. There was no joy at all.

Holden began to realize that he would have to find a new form of joy, for what he had believed to be the heart of it had been drained of all the joy he could remember.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Six**

* * *

**Stay**

When Sean was just beginning his career in the NFL, he had spent three weeks in the hospital. That was what severe head trauma and a broken arm got you, a risk he had known going into major league football. He could still taste the flavorless jello, could still see the banal curtains that conjoined with walls that sapped him of optimism. It had been his parents that had pulled him out of the depths of misery and back into the world from which he had been ejected.

He held an animosity toward hospitals because of this. If he had to receive a flu shot, he would do it elsewhere. If he had to get a wellness exam, it was in a local clinic. Despite its necessity, no other place had manifested so much frustration within him. So when the call came in, when the numbness reached his fingertips and Holden's arms pulled him from his chair and onto the couch, he was given another reason to confront his demons.

Cushioned chairs became his new residence, polite thank you's and forced strength a necessity. He held her hand, knowing this day would come, knowing that it was inevitable that she would leave before him, but always refusing to see it in the near future. Now it was here and it was watching ice melt between his fingers.

Heartbreak left him with only Holden to cling to late at night when he was too exhausted to remain stoic, when he no longer needed to be the one that didn't cry. He should know by now that life didn't always deal a fair hand, yet he would never understand why it had to be him, why it had to be now and not later when he was stronger, when he could really handle this.

The days limped along. People came and went, and she didn't get better. Months passed, the leaves fled from the trees, finding solace on the ground. The days were taking their toll on his father, and soon he found himself alone with her more and more. Holden would always show up after work, bringing food and offering comfort when Sean needed it most. He wouldn't stay long, leaving Sean alone with her as she faded in and out of sleep.

In the midst of fall, when life wasn't getting easier, Holden arrived with a brown bag of food for dinner. Sean offered a smile and Holden leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll see you at home." Holden whispered, squeezing his shoulder before turning on his heel.

"Wait."

Sean blinked, staring at his mom as she reached out a hand. Holden halted and turned back around. Their eyes held and silence befell the three of them.

"Stay." She managed with a gasp, the first words she had spoken all day. Holden stepped forward once, then twice, and then he took a seat in the vacant chair beside Sean. She reached out for him, and he leaned forward, taking her hand.

"Thank you. For…" She was taken by a fit of coughing. "…for loving him."

Holden smiled and held her hand in both of his. "Thank you for taking care of him."

Two days later, Sean's mother passed away.

* * *

**Tragedy**

People say life is made up of a bunch of little details. Holden would argue that it is made up of little words. Ones that don't mean a lot when they are said, yet carry so much gravity as time passes. Holden would argue that despite every event that builds upon another, in spite of every action you commit, a few words could turn your stone temple to sand.

He realized that as he stood on the platform, watching people crowding around him, some fighting to get to the front. There was a girl, maybe twelve years old, clutching an oversized stuffed teddy bear and swaying. An elderly man looked out across the station. The folded up paper in his pocket felt like a lead weight, searing into his thigh, branding him with its importance. He cautioned a breath in the autumn air, warming his hands in his jacket.

The train came into the station and halted with a clean squeal. Holden stepped back as the passengers flooded the floor, all in search. There was one woman who found that girl with the teddy bear. A man searched through the crowd, passing over Holden. Finally, a woman in her early sixties appeared, grey curls tied behind her, a deep red jacket draped over her meager shoulders.

Holden stepped forward, and when she saw him, she became a swan amongst duckling, weaving through impossibly narrow gaps and reaching him, hands finding his as their eyes connected.

"Mom." He whispered, almost choking on the words.

"Not here, dear. To a coffee shop." She replied, giving him a smile that swallowed his fears.

* * *

**Yesterday**

He lost the habit to function as a normal human being as the days went on. It was a dark world, a world he did not even realize existed until a month ago. He was being unfair because of it. He knew that, he knew that he was being selfish. But he was taking this time to allow himself to be selfish. If not now, then when? When would he ever get the chance again to lay in bed all day and stare at the ceiling because it was all that he could bring himself to do? When would it be okay to not eat for three days and then finally swallow down some rice because he had become light-headed? When else would his coach let him make his own schedule despite all of his prior commitments?

That was yesterday. Today, he was dressed in black alone in an empty church. Head down, eyes closed, he could feel a thousand weights on his body, anchoring him to his seat. He could breathe, but just barely. He hadn't cried. He couldn't cry.

There was a hand on his shoulder. He didn't look up, didn't budge at all. That hand found his as another person attempted to lift the burden from him. He choked back a sob, and an arm was around his shoulders, pulling him close, sheltering him from his own personal thunder.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**Part Seven**

* * *

**Grasp**

The moon cast a pale spotlight across Holden's back. His face was buried in the mattress, a pillow trapped beneath his stomach. He fisted the sheets as sweat coursed down his back, droplets pooling in the arch of his spine. Palms cupped his hips steadying him against the unrelenting force. His mind swam in an ocean of desperation, a desire for appeasement overwhelming any coherent thought.

It left the two men lost in time, without limitation of commitment. Sean collapsed atop Holden when it was over, heaving warm breath across the other man's neck. Their hands found one another's, Sean unmoving, pressing a gentle kiss on Holden's jaw, thumbing the perspiration on his temple.

"I love you." He whispered in his ear, and Holden let the final remnants of tension ease from his body.

"Love you too." He replied, finding his peace beneath the other man.

He could feel the burden of them both heavy on his heart. Sean was not coping well. He shouldn't be expected to; the man was so strong all the time, he was allowed this. So Holden would take the worried calls, he would cook all of the meals and make up excuses for their friends. He would talk to Paula and Kara and he would figure things out himself while Sean sat on the couch or at his desk. He would be the listening ear when Sean talked about his childhood and sifted through the photo albums. He would do this, be the release that Sean needed. Because it was nice to be Sean's rock for once.

* * *

**How to Love**

Sean had paternal instinct. He just did. It came with being from a tight-knit family when he was younger, from everything in his life being so very traditional and familial and comforting when he was in school. So when it came to raising a child, he had no issues. When he took their daughter in his arms for the first time, he gasped and smiled in the dramatic way that got a toddler excited. He had some sort of sixth sense, knowing when to tend to her every need.

Then there was Holden. Holden, who had spent many nights of his childhood in front of the television, most of his high school pouring over textbooks and studying for advanced placement exams. He knew nothing of family outside of a roof and an income, and while that had developed as he had aged and had blossomed into something worth salvaging.

So when their child arrived, Holden had no idea what to do. He was awestruck that this child was theirs. That he had finally been given this gift to nurture and parent. He had been moved to tears, and yet as the child settled in his arms, there was a disconnect. He didn't know how to emotionally bond with this child, and as the nights passed, it become more and more of a rift. Sean tried to comfort him, he really did, but Holden could take no solace in it. For years, he had sought to rectify the emotional vacancy he had been left with by his own parents by being everything his daughter needed. Now, he could only watch as she crawled over to Sean, as her tears ceased with a few of his gentle words. A sense of worthlessness he hadn't felt since he was in middle school began to overtake him.

One restless night, Holden found his peace with a warm cup of tea and some soothing music. As he sat at the kitchen table, he closed his eyes, heavy from nights of endless interruption and attempted to soothe his mind. Instead, he was interrupted by the cries of their daughter. He sighed and rose, knowing that a train could crash into their bedroom and Sean wouldn't twitch.

He rushed up the flight of stairs and down the hall to her bedroom, where she lay in bed, tears wetting her pillow.

"What is it, Isabelle?" He whispered, kneeling beside her.

She just shook her head, refusing to speak. He sighed, turning toward the door, contemplating if seeking out Sean would be the best solution. Instead, he turned back to her, offering the kindest smile he could. He took a slight breath, and let the words out in a quiet song.

_Little girl, never forget my eyes_

_ Keep them alive inside_

_ I promise to try, it's not the same_

_ Keep your head held high, ride like the wind_

_ Never look behind, life isn't fair_

He sang the rest of the lyrics, placing a hand on her forehead and thumbing the hair from her face. As he reached the second verse, the tears had stopped. By the time he finished singing, she had been lulled to sleep.

Holden stood, looking down at his daughter as a pleasant ease coursed through him, warming his fingers. He smiled, absorbing the scene for a moment longer before returning to bed and descending into a weightless sleep.

* * *

**American**

Rays of sunlight left a shimmering light spread across the child's face as she lay there in the grass, tinting blonde curls into radiant gold strands. Holden smiled at the sight, feeling the warmth swelling in his stomach. His fingers danced along a page, searching once again for where he had left off.

"Daddy, can we go get snow cones tonight?"

He looked up once more, having read just a few words. She was sitting up now, her sundress parachuting off of her petite frame. He couldn't deny her, he knew. Months of trying to be the authoritative parent and he had given up; it just wasn't in him.

"Sure, sweetie. We're going to have to wait for papa to get home though. I don't think he would appreciate us leaving without him."

She nodded. "He works a lot in the summer."

"That's because your papa is really good at football, so he has to do a lot of work to get ready to play football during the season."

"Kids at school play football during recess, and there are always teachers stopping fights or taking someone to the nurse. Does papa get hurt?"

He paused. "Well…your papa sort of has superpowers. He heals up really quickly, so any time he gets a few scrapes, they don't even bother him."

"So he's like an X-Man?"

Holden smiled. "Yeah. Just like an X-Man."

"Talking about X-Men again? What are you doing to our daughter, sweetheart?"

Holden twisted in the chair and spotted Sean there, bag slung over his shoulder. His t-shirt clung to his chest and he glistened in the heat of the sun, but there was still a grin plastered to his face.

"Papa!" The girl surged to her feet and crossed the yard. Sean dropped his bag in time to pick her up beneath her arms and lift her into the air, giving her a twirl. He placed a kiss on her forward before setting her back down.

"How's my baby girl doing?" He asked.

"I swam three laps around the pool for the first time without stopping!" She exclaimed.

"A whole three laps?! You're going to be ready for the Olympics soon at that rate!" Sean exclaimed, kneeling before her.

"She finished the last of her books from the library today too." Holden added, approaching them.

"A genius too? I'm proud of you, Isabelle!" Sean exclaimed, earning an extended smile from her. He got to his feet again, eyes softening as he looked at Holden. Just as the other man stepped within his range, Sean pulled him in and planted a kiss on his lips, hard and deep and yet brief.

Holden pulled back, heartbeat noticeably raised as their hands found one another's.

"And how was your day?" Sean asked.

"Good; I got more work done from home. They're still being very understanding of me wanting to be here with Isabelle."

Sean nodded. "Good to hear. Should we head inside?"

"We're going to get snow cones tonight papa!" Isabelle blurted.

"After dinner though, baby girl." Holden replied, leading Sean toward the house as Isabelle raced ahead of them.

"She's really been on a snow cone kick lately, hasn't she?" Sean asked.

"Yeah; I was trying to discourage it, but she's been swimming so much and only really eats if I set food right in front of her. It's hard to keep weight on her, so I figured she can have one thing I don't say no to."  
Sean snorted. "Babe, I don't think I've ever heard you tell that girl no."

"I have! Once or twice, it's happened. Promise." Holden retorted, pulling open the sliding glass door and letting them in. Isabelle darted off to her room down the hall and Sean set his bag on the counter.

"Whatever you say." He said with a smirk.

Holden gave him a light push, and Sean grabbed his arm, spinning them around so that Holden was against the counter. He relished the gleam in Sean's eyes, the other man's hands planted on either side of him. He took a deep breath through his nose.

"You smell." He stated, poking Sean in the shoulder.

"Wanna help me shower?" He asked.

Holden nodded. "I was counting on it."


	8. Chapter 8

**The Story**

**By: KellyCRocker59**

**The Final Chapter**

* * *

**All Too Well**

Raising Isabelle was like living in a storybook. As her Disney obsession took hold, her room began to fill with merchandise from The Magic Kingdom, Sean always being the parent that would bend to his daughter's every whim. Holden was pushed to use his imagination at every moment as her obsession with the Disney princesses took hold, forced to breathe life into every stuffed animal and each doll. Soon, he had fabricated an entire hierarchy and caste system for his daughter, one that she naturally ruled over with an iron fist. He was taken with the fleeting thought that she may make an incredible businesswoman or politician one day.

As Isabelle aged, her fairytales became playground drama, and then lunchtime talk. In those years, Isabelle had to adjust to the presence of not one but two little siblings. It was Holden's idea; a life plan was unrolled after the discovery of his first grey hair, one that Sean the family man was enthusiastic about. They welcomed a precocious boy named Kyle, and around after Kyle turned one, they ended up with the quiet Sophia unexpectedly early, but a beautiful addition nonetheless.

Holden had to start working part-time from home, and before long he also had to end that in order to take of the children. Kyle had a penchant for ravaging the cupboards, Sophia often found herself standing in the toilet, and Isabelle spent the whole time judging them from behind a book. Sean had to retire eventually as well, but they hardly needed to worry about money after Sean's lengthy career in the NFL.

Sean loved all of the kids deeply, but he tended to spend extra time with Kyle. As Kyle grew up, Sean taught him about football and soon they were playing the real thing in the backyard, running through the sand. Kyle looked like a miniature Spartan warrior, face painted with seriousness as he attempted to dash past Sean. Holden found himself drawn to both of the girls, with Isabelle's growing thirst for knowledge and Sophia's curiosity regarding the world around her. When Isabelle was placed in Advanced Math and English in seventh grade, neither of the parents was surprised.

Sophia joined every activity possible by the time she reached middle school. At this point, Kyle had been marked as the rising star of the football team and Isabelle was already examining possibilities of being accepted to an Ivy League university at the age of fourteen. Somehow, Holden wondered how they managed to raise three children so distinctly driven in their own ways.

But then came the high school years. Kyle made the rounds with the cheerleaders, Sophia was caught sneaking out several nights a week, and Isabelle ended up keying her Physics teacher's car because he refused to write her a letter of recommendation. Sometimes Sean gave up on sleep, staying awake with a cup of tea, watching the door for Sophia's inevitable return. Some nights, Isabelle would stay up with him, pouring over the closing portion of a literary classic.

Somehow, despite the chaos, Sean and Holden managed to send off their three children to respectable colleges, all three on their own paths. As they stood in Sophia's dormitory room for the first time, taking in the plain walls and bare furniture, all of life seemed to fall on Holden's shoulders at once. He didn't know how to explain it as he stifled the tears in their parting embrace. Sean gave her one final cautionary speech. Sophia nodded through it all, arguing that she had been through the partying phase already and it was over. Holden spent this time trying to memorize the pout of her lips, the curve of indignation that her brow often took during these discussions. They left her with one final hug each.

Standing in the descending elevator, Holden couldn't restrain the tears any longer. Sean squeezed his hand, silent. He knew. Somehow, he had known for a long time, had come to cope with it over time. Holden had put it off, not acknowledged it. The truth of life was that it was finite. It wasn't an endless circle, the way Holden had envisioned for so long. He didn't expect to live forever, and yet he didn't expect it to sneak up on him so quickly, to catch him unaware. And here he was, trusting that he had raised three children right and in turn setting them free into the world. And here was Sean, beside him through it all, no matter what.

The funny thing was, Holden still felt twenty-five, nights out with his friends, flirting with strangers and dancing until two in the morning. He could remember nights of Chinese take-out on his living room floor, finishing up final arrangements for work. He still saw the way Sean had looked at him that night, when they had first met. He remembered his heart breaking when he thought Sean wasn't the love of his life, and the way it was repaired when he realized he was wrong. He could still see the grin when Sean put the ring on his finger. Holden remembered every day of his children's lives, every family movie night and dinner, every football game and birthday party.

It was all gone now, dissipated into the past. And yet he couldn't be sad or remorseful. He hadn't accomplished everything he had ever wanted, hadn't seen every dream come to fruition, but he wouldn't change anything. Somehow, it was all right. Somehow, he was happy.

* * *

**Euphoria**

Leaning against the refrigerator, Sean watched the turn of Holden's hips, returning the glimmer of a smile. He reached out but didn't quite touch, letting the other man wisp away to the sink, out of his reach. The lights of the kitchen haloed around the two of them, shrouding the rest of the house in darkness.

Holden reached out and Sean began to raise his arm, but then Holden was beckoning him forward, and Sean was stepping without thinking, closing the distance between them. When his hands found Holden's hips, the tips of his fingers tingled. A shiver ran up his spine as Holden's arms hooked over his shoulders. He took the lead, and Holden followed.

Holden hummed a song, immediately recognizable. Sean grinned as he spun them around, a strand of Holden's hair spilling onto his forehead. The humming stopped as Sean reached up, thumbing over the other man's cheek as they swayed in place. Rivulets of age splayed over the skin, and Sean sighed. Holden seized his hand and forced it back to his hip, lips tight.

Sean turned them around again, this time pressing Holden's back to the refrigerator. Holden grabbed Sean's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Sean let his breath ghost over Holden's face for just a moment before obliging. They stayed like that, lips fastened together as they grazed infinity together.


End file.
